


You may write me down in history

by UMsArchive



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, As serious as petty!Yuri can get, Borderline on Crack, Humor, M/M, Victor is 17-18, Victor is the rival, Yuri P. is the coach, Yurio is 26-27, Yuuri is 16-17, but they are switched, lots of things remain the same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:17:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMsArchive/pseuds/UMsArchive
Summary: Yuri knows very well who his real challenger is and how he skates, what his weaknesses are. Said person has recently gotten back from the Kiss and Cry with Yakov, boasting about having surpassed the Junior’s Short Programme record again. And he still hasn’t given up on harassing Yuri about choreographing him a routine, too.Greedy damn punk.“Fine,” Yuri snaps with an irritated smirk, eventually, pressing his forehead impatiently, “I will choreograph for and even guide you - or any of these Junior little shits who manages to impress me by the end of this competition in the slightest,” he sits back smugly in a chair, crossing his legs.OR; Yuri P. decides to train a certain Japanese boy into the Seniors division. Victor and Yuuri become rivals not very good at this whole rival-ing thing.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri groans, looking across the ice from over the rinkside, having Yakov beside him, pointing at the various Juniors in the current group warming up, having a special comment to make here and there about some of them. Every year, it is the same story, especially these last few ones. Yakov would drag him here, scouting his future possible challengers.  

 

About 4 years ago, he had fallen in practice trying to land a quad Axel and ended with an injury with a questionable rate of full recovery. Right away, news sites have already started listing who would probably take his spot. Joke’s on them. He was back a few months later, World title in hand, a couple of those challengers of his barely heard of since then. But he has learnt his lesson (and if he wouldn’t have, Yakov’s constant reminders would’ve done the deed over the following years). He knows these fuckers would eat him alive the moment they’d find an opening. And in return Yuri’s become fiercer and less forgiving on the ice himself. But lately, dread has started to set in.

 

“Ugh, give me a break, Yakov, I can see them for myself.”

 

Yuri knows very well who his real challenger is and how he skates, what his weaknesses are. Said person has recently gotten back from the Kiss and Cry with Yakov, boasting about having surpassed the Junior’s Short Programme record  _ again _ . And he still hasn’t given up on harassing Yuri about choreographing him a routine, too.

 

Greedy damn punk.

 

“Fine,” Yuri snaps with an irritated smirk, eventually, pressing his forehead impatiently, “I will choreograph for and even guide  _ you - or  _ any of these Junior little shits who manages to impress me by the end of this competition in the slightest,” he sits back smugly in a chair, crossing his legs.

 

“Ha, I will win this,” the Nikiforov brat brags.

 

“I don’t care if you win - I said I need to be impressed by some skater. Might very well be none of you. You Juniors are all too predictable, after all.”

 

“I am not  _ predictable _ .” Vitya looked rather insulted and Yuri guessed he might have touched a weak spot.

 

Good.

 

He does have all the potential to be the next thing, Yuri has to admit. Yuri also has to admit that he is - he frowns -  _ bitter _ . Perhaps. Nothing he wants to dwell on right now, on this lovely evening, with a new World’s gold at this side. 

 

He leans forward, intent. One of these teenagers is currently auto destroying himself out there. He looks shaky in all of his moves. He doesn’t properly land any jump -  _ ouch, two-footed _ . Yuri knows mental weakness when he sees it, although he can’t say he’s been prone to it much back in the day or even later. 

The score speaks for itself.  _ Ouch again _ . He doesn’t look too well right there. Yuri thinks the youngster might throw up all across the flowers in the Kiss and Cry. Oh, he’s leaving. He’s leaving. Well, good for the flowers. Good for the cameras. Good for his own remaining dignity. 

 

“What’s it with him?” Victor butts in, too loud for the discrecy that the other skater would’ve probably preferred - noisy  _ and _ dumb. 

 

“It’s called dealing with the consequences of failure, Vitya. Something too specific and unknown to you,” Yuri just briefly eyes Victor, before turning his gaze to the scores panel. Three more competitors to go and nauseated dude’s in 22th place. 

 

Damn, when he was that age, not only that a thing like this wouldn't have touched him. It'd have angered him. He'd think it was pathetic. It kind of was.  That kid wouldn't survive much in the pressure of this competitive world, that much was clear. He is going to go out there on the ice the day after tomorrow, completely auto destruct himself again in the free skate with those weak nerves, resent all of this and soon disappear completely from the skating scene. Full circle. Quite pitiful, Yuri guessed, shrugging.

 

“That’s odd,” Victor pipes up, a vague expression on his face.

 

“What’s odd?” Yuri side-eyes him, his main focus still on the ice, at the third to last. He isn’t the worst; he does land his jumps quite fluidly,  but his routine is lacking - or in Yuri’s words: he’s fucking lame. He’ll make it into top 24 and qualify for the free skate, though. 

 

“You know how Yakov showed him to us, described him as the competition I should concentrate most on? By extension, your competition?” Victor supplies. He looks fucking serious, too - he means it. Yuri looks back to where the younger boy has disappeared, as if expecting a sign or confirmation of sorts from the boy himself about all this. 

 

“How can you not remember?” Victor frowns at him, as if Yuri is the one out of line here. 

 

“Why the hell would I remember yet another Junior on the everlasting long list of ambitious Juniors?” Yuri is altogether tired of all the ‘looking out in anticipation’ for a big shot threatening to replace him in the hierarchy.  

 

Victor opens his mouth,  _ hesitates _ \- Yuri raises his eyebrows, intrigued - then seems to rethink his argument, going, “His name is also Yuuri, too. And you dismissed Yakov back then like, ‘ _ yeah, I’m not as dumb as not to remember my fucking own name, Yakov _ ’,” he even mock-mimics Yuri’s speech pattern, to his indignance, the damned brat. A lame watered down version of the original, of course, like his fucking skating skills.

 

“Well, he’s been out there and definitely not up for the expectation of this glorious name,” Yuri mumbles, unconsciously glancing at the scoreboard. Nauseatic Yuri is in 23th place and will probably sink lower with the last two skaters placing above him, cutting his time at the World Championship short.  

 

“Yeah,” Victor shrugs concomitantly with the current (second to last) skater hitting the ice, calling back for not only both of their attention, but that of the entire stadium. Knowing Juniors, he probably tried to jump some quad without the security of landing it, that fucktard. The main and crucial point, however, is now he doesn’t seem able to get back up on his own, as he stagnates on the ice, staggering, while his music goes on. Paramedics are already there, checking him here, checking him there. There’s a lot of chattering and movement around the two of them, remaining there, at the rink’s sideline. 

 

They share a conspicuous momentary look. It’s a strange, unconscious act and none of them will ever talk about it, the both guilty and curious realization that they are in a way relieved about this development, although Yuri would more likely be able to find reason for airy-head Victor than himself to find inside him such an interest or consideration.

 

With one of the last two competitors withdrawn due to technicalities, no matter how strong the last skater’s routine will be, Nauseous Yuri makes it to the list of 24 Juniors who advance to the free skate.

 

***

As the last of skaters takes the ice, Yuri finds himself completely uninterested. The whoever that is could jump 10 points ahead of even Victor and land a damn quad Axel right there and then, he’s really not feeling it.

 

“The fun is all gone, Yakov. Go ahead and get Vitya ready for interviews. I’ll find my way to the hotel. I’m grown and all,” Yuri dismisses his coach as prevention, but the other man doesn’t seem ready to comment on it, waving him off. Not that it would’ve mattered. 

 

He walks down a connecting hall, hands in his trousers’ pockets, stopping by at a bathroom to check his hair, in the eventuality of last minute (not truly unexpected) photos. He swings the door open with one leg backing in, casually pushing himself further in with his shoulder, taking out his phone and turning on the data.

 

He stops in his track, the door closing itself shut behind him, at the sound of soft whimpers coming from the middle stall, followed by a few choked words in a language he couldn’t understand. 

 

_ What the- _

 

He narrows his eyes and, effortlessly, he lifts his leg again, swinging it and hitting hard against the stall’s door, scowling down at the smaller figure perched up on the toilet’s lid and looking up at him in horror, a phone clutched tightly to his chest -  the Nauseous Yuri. 

 

“Moron,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes, his tone uninterested, but feeling a boiling sensation within it.

 

“Yo-you’re Yuri Pli-,” the guy mumbles shakily.

 

“Yeah, fucking yeah, now get out of there,” Yuri rolls his eyes impatiently.

 

“But why are you-?” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to draw your placement for the free skate, you dumbass?” Yuri raised his eyebrows, still sounding uninterested, still simmering, opening the Youtube app.

 

“Free skate? But I-”

 

“Yeah, that right there was fucking deplorable and hard to even look at, but it does appear there were youngster even worse than that. A 24th is better than nothing, I guess,” he started typing into the search bar, not even looking down at the younger skater anymore.

 

“Thanks,” the other blurts out  _ with a bow  _ \- maybe a cultural thing? _ \-  _  immediately turning towards the door.

 

“Whatever the hell for?” Yuri speaks lowly, more for himself than anything else, as the Japanese guy is already through the door and running.

 

He shrugs, irritated, scrolling through the videos for the earliest possible version of the Japanese skater’s short programme - excepting that of today’s, evidently.

 

Ugh, both video quality and sound are a menace to his senses. Good God, was this filmed with a Nokia brick? He leans against a sink, watching intently. The song choice is rather lame, no wonder it didn’t even manage to catch his ear today, not just his eye. But the choreography, in its nicer state, works well for him. He doesn’t  jump any quads, but lands all jumps he attempts. His triple Axel is more than steady. Definitely worth a +2 GOE as it is. Spins and step sequences are all Level 4s and nice looking at that. That last spin combination puts him a bit to trouble, if only in speed, but his skills are worthwhile nonetheless. He scored a 75 back then, not outstanding, but a good one. The score would’ve probably placed him in top 6 today. Infinitely better than the barely scrapped 50 something he managed, anyway. 

 

Pity.

 

He turns it off, denying the temptation of  watching the free skate, too. No point in having expectations. The kiddo was nerve-wrecked and already discouraged - the day after tomorrow’s outcome was rather premeditated. 

  
  
  


***

 

Victor will, of course, be the last competing out of the sixth group, so there’s lots of lonely waiting and watching over the kids like a kindergarten assistant. Not that he misses the company, but it felt more like he had anything to do with any of this when there was someone around him who had anything to do with this. As a spectator, it feels kind of odd, being at competitions. He guesses that’s why the idea of a future retirement is odd in itself. He’s rarely any interested in anyone else’s skating but his own. Last time he got intensely interested in someone’s skating, it didn’t end up well for him. Bad experience. 0/10. Would not recommend. 

 

The first group takes the ice for warm-up, eventually. Unconsciously, he leans forward in his seat, scanning the ice for Nauseous Yuri. And, yes, he’s there and he’s fucked up - bags under his eyes, scarily white face and all that, while having to skate first. He leans back into his chair. Fuck it, he’s playing Candy Crush during this approaching disaster. 

 

The ice gets cleared, only the one skater remaining, getting ready. Yuri looks up from his progress on Level 76 then averts his eyes again. The music starts, startling Yuri, who looks up in spite of his will. 

 

Nauseous Yuri starts with a striking pose - he looks…  _ feral.  _

 

_ Uh-oh. _

 

Yuri absently loosens his grip on his phone, letting it slip onto his lap, as he adjusts his position and attention.

 

The movements don’t quite seem like what they were meant to be, in expression, by judgment of the skater’s expected choices, but they fit better than anything else would’ve, so plans are irrelevant. The music is way better than the previous. He lunges into a first jump - a triple Axel. That will be nearing a +3 just now. Yuri smirks, leaning further in. That’s an interesting entry, going for-... A triple-bridge-triple combination, followed by a spin. Triple Lutz-double toeloop. Dang, that’s a good step sequence. A triple-double, again. No quad again, by all means. But he was expecting that. He’s nailing all jumps and spins all through, however, and doesn’t falter. And he’s made mostly combinations.

 

Ah, he’s nearing the end by now. Probably going into a spin-  _ Oh _ , another triple Axel! - and he enters into a spin from there, speeding up until an abrupt ending pose. Then he finally falters, dropping to his knees, taking his time, barely catching his breath. With that sleep deprived look, of course he’s been running mostly on adrenaline.

 

Was the Axel even planned, Yuri wonders? It was incorporated well enough, though  _ which _ is why-

 

He heads towards the Kiss and Cry - sluggishly so. Yuri’s even forgotten to keep track of the score, which is something, to consider that it’s managed to keep his attention off like that. He looks up at the screen, featuring the guy still breathing hard, a woman by his side. By all means, the score  _ will be _ something good enough to erase his short skate shame.  

 

The announcement gets as response a round of cheers from the arena and an incredulous humourless snort from Yuri, although the feeling around it is rather vague.

 

It might end up to be short-lived, what with the 23 people to follow, especially a certain Russian, but as of now, Katstuki is holding a FS record by a whole point.

 

***

 

Victor scores more than 5 points higher - short lived, indeed. Yuri was expecting that. After all, Victor has been planning to add a second quad for this World’s. But, interestingly enough, no one else does go higher. Not even quite close, although a few others had quads, one or, even if scarcely, two. 

 

The free skate does propel him in 7th place, however. No chances to the podium, that has been clear since the beginning.

 

***

  
  
  


In the morning, as they are leaving the hotel, reporters get the hang of it. Of course, they would take their last chance at a better answer than his constant ‘no comment’s in the official press conference.

 

“What are your plans for the following season, Yuri?”  _ Well, to tell you all to go fuck yourselves _ . Not quite the diplomatic answer. Yakov would give him an earful for having to deal with the consequences of that. The federation would skin him for having to deal with the consequences of that. However-

 

What would be the safest choice and what would be the best choice? Yuri needs to mainly get these guys off his back, but not feel like he’s stagnating with his life.

 

He sighs, stopping in his track, takes off his sunglasses like a suffering diva - how Yakov called it when he did it first and told him to stop it; Yuri thought it was cool though so he takes it every chance he gets. Yakov looks perturbed by this act with intention, and he’s shooting Yuri that ‘better not start some shit’ look. In return, Yuri flashes him that ‘shit’s going down’ look and doesn’t want for his most likely outraged reaction before turning back to the cameras and sweetly going, “In fact, a few days ago, I made a bet with my young rinkmate here, Victor Nikiforov-”

 

The interest in the crowd peaked, cameras flashed at a faster pace and microphones were pushed forward and closer to him. 

  
Well, no one will ever be able to say he didn’t go out with a bang.

* * *

 

**A/N:** Yeah, normally the Juniors takes place before Seniors competitions, but let it be for the plot, ok?


	2. Chapter 2

“Yura, don’t go! You are making a grave mistake-” Yakov has been following him to the airport, going from what seems like dramatically quoting soap operas to giving him novice lectures, “ If you go now, you will never be able to make a comeback, you fool!”

 

“Yakov-,” Yuri sighs, turning patiently and politely to Yakov, not his usual reaction to these kind of talks, but even he has to be honest and admit to himself that he’s never let down his coach quite equal to these proportions. “I am very much aware of the risk I am taking and also of how many times it turned out I really wasn’t when I said that, but let me not really think it through, like I normally would. I usually wing it just fine. Take care of that grey-haired brat and Mila and maybe give Georgi hints he’s getting kinda old, too,” he awkwardly pats him on the shoulder and turns to leave.

 

“You never wing it just fine, you brat!” he hears Yakov shout as he waves him off, going through security.

 

***

 

He takes a seat at the boarding gate, feeling somewhat exhausted. Who knew that packing up a good portion of your life is quite this taxing? Potya, at least - his cat - better meet him well and whole on the end of the journey. 

 

There is a thump on the neighbour seat. “Hi, Yura!”

 

“Christ!” Yuri literally jumps out of his chair, heart nearly jumping out of his chest, too, widening his eyes down at the newcomer, half fright, half irritation. “How did  _ you _ manage to get here without Yakov seeing you?”

 

“How do you know Yakov is unaware of me being here?” Victor retorts bravely.

 

He only meets Yuri’s deadpanned look as reply. 

 

“-ok, so Yakov doesn’t know I’m here,” Victor admits moderately. “But it’s fine. He won’t be  _ that _ mad.”

 

“-and pigs fly. Most important, though,  _ wh _ y are you here, you punk?”

 

“Ah, right. You see, I heard from Yakov - well, the whole rink did, he was quite vocal about it - how you would leave right away to go choreograph for the Japanese Yuuri. I feel like I was cheated in that bet, according to the rules-”

 

“What rules? The one rule was I do whatever the fuck I want,” Yuri crosses his arms, petulantly sitting back down.

 

“Technically, we’ve both surpassed your very old record that I can’t understand how it stayed there for so long- But, anyways! I feel like that should have qualified both of us into some final of sorts,” Victor crosses his arms behind his head, confident in his analogy and altogether relaxed.  

 

“I’m not hosting The X Factor or some shit. We’re not bargaining or having semi-finals,” Yuri groans.

 

“Well, I’m coming for that purpose all the same,” Victor shrugs nonchalantly, sitting up to check the boarding schedule screen. 

 

“Do you even fucking know where you’re supposed to be going?”

 

“No, but for starters I knew you’ll have to land in Tokyo, so I got a ticket for that and there was only one flight today. From then on, I’ll just follow you wherever we might end up, I guess,” he once again shrugs it all off casually and charmingly, his back still turned to Yuri as he narrows his eyes at the screen. “Is that a little delay there?” 

  
“I swear to god, I’ll just go and run off a cliff, then - I’ll make that sacrifice for the greater good.”

 

“Sure, but can you watch over my luggage for a bit?” he turns and starts rummaging through his backpack, unfazed, taking out a wallet. “I need to go buy some water.”  

 

“Hope you fucking choke on that,” Yuri mumbles, sinking further into his seat as Victor departs rather cheerily. 

 

He could call Yakov to come pull Victor out of here by his annoying flipping ponytail and back to the city, together with the document Yakov himself signed for emergency situations in which Victor would need to travel alone - with which the smartass probably managed to get this far. He could. But if he is to be honest to himself, if there’s anyone perfectly able to evade Yakov in every way possible, it’d be either himself or that grey haired brat.    

 

Victor stays true to his word, boarding on every train and stopping at any hotels or cafes Yuri did. It is more than in one instance that Yuri deliberates staying true to his word too about that cliff jumping. It’s when Victor seems to be following him to the bathroom that he decides it’s time to mark some limits. 

 

“Can you maybe chill? As much as I would like, I can’t let you hanging around alone in a foreign country anyway. Yakov would never forgive me if I lose his remaining hope for men’s gold in Japan.”

 

***

 

“One room, ple-” Victor elbows him- “Agh! Two. Two rooms. Are they en-suite? I need a bath? What do you mean, ‘public bath’? What even is a ‘public bath’-?”

 

_ “Yuuri!” _ the youngster exclaims next to him, some notes too high for his head’s unslept hours, tugging at his shirt. 

 

“What is it?” he shoots back through gritted teeth, leaning lower towards Victor.

 

Victor is, however looking in an opposite direction and  _ waving excitedly _ \- great deed of making them look like some tactless tourists in a peaceful inn. Across the hall and currently white as death is the very object of all of Yuri’s grand expectations. And he just takes one look at them and runs away. Just fucking scaredly  _ runs away. _

 

“Oh, wonderful, you just scared him off. In to sabotage me from the very beginning, aren’t you Nikiforov?” Yuri mockingly teases the only one he’s got left to tease. Well, he didn’t honestly expect the Yuuri-boy to be gutsy much off the ice altogether. But on the ice is where he needs him fearless so that shouldn’t hinder his purpose.

 

“But I just-” Victor appears to be strangely and unexpectedly distressed by this development, Yuri notes with a quirk of his eyebrow. Could it be- “Just shut up, Yura!” he storms off, grasping one of the keys they were handed. 

 

-nevermind. Fucking disrespectful kiddo. His student-to-be and pretense-student-to-be are worries for later, anyway. He needs sleep and he needs it promptly. He also needs the bath and if dressing down in front of a bunch of people is what it takes, it shall be done. He’s done worse kinds of - documented - stripping in his youth that neither he nor Yakov really like to remember. Not then and definitely not now did or does he have anything to be ashamed of when it comes to his body, however. 

 

He finds his room with the help of a very nice Japanese lady and finally puts away his luggage and let’s Potya free. Not bothering with unpacking just yet, he heads out towards where he was said the baths would be.

 

Down the hall, a woman with youthful looks, but no sort of youthful naivete in her threatening expression, corners him on the way, however. He wishes he could tell it’s never happened to him before. 

 

“I read the news,” she claims, in a very accented English.  

 

He inclines his head skeptically, hoping for a more thorough addition to that. 

 

“You mean to choreograph for our Yuuri and  _ guide _ him? What exactly does the  _ guiding _ extend to, Mr. Plisetsky?”

 

Could that maybe be Yuuri-boy’s mother? Given the case and her attitude, he doubted the younger skater takes after her. She definitely looks quite young for being a mother of an almost 17 year old, but who is he to judge?

 

“It depends,” he counters. “Who is  _ your Yuuri _ ’s coach?”

 

“He quit,” she prompts, arms crossed.

 

“Ouch. After Worlds?” Well, that was kind of a trash move, especially when it was obvious the boy has potential when he does manage to steady himself.

 

“Before,” the woman clarified.  _ An even douchier move. _ “Found a better offer in the States. Doesn’t believe much in the future of Japan’s skating. He thought  _ qualifying _ for Worlds was as far as he could get - nothing to impress him.” 

 

Tch,  _ qualifying _ for a country that barely ever does is not insignificant at all. Neither is placing 10th with that kind of disadvantage from the short programme.

 

“I was the only one to accompany him, as his choreographer,” she adds. 

 

So not a mother. Or both his mother  _ and _ choreographer - never unlikely, when a kid follows the parent’s path in this sport. 

 

“What do  _ you _ mean to be for him, Plisetsky?” she leans in, quite threatening, definitely like a mama hen if not definitely a mama. “What  _ exactly _ do you have to offer to him?” Yuri is tempted to take a step back under the unforgiving scrutiny, but he stands firmly, his own questioning in line.

 

Well, Yakov does know him a great deal and when he said Yuri has no idea what he’s doing and when Yuri admitted to be ‘winging it’, it was all very truthful. He does mean to do something for the younger skater, though his motivation and limits are vague even to himself. Just how seriously has he chosen to come down here and just how far he means to go further on, it’s all a mystery. But he  _ will _ be winging this just fine. He can just meet the demands, assess the situation further later and see what’s coming his way. And the demands right now-

 

“There’s no skirting around concepts like choreographer or technician. I will become his coach for the time being. Time being meaning-” he interrupted her obviously upcoming inquiry -”throughout the Grand Prix, in the least - enough to judge how well we can do together.”

 

***

 

A dejected Nikiforov plops beside him in the onsen, yet again, Yuri supposes, meaning to stay true to his promises of stalking and making Yuri miserable. 

 

“When will we even see Yuuri?” 

 

“What is it with you? Did you thirst follow me to Japan for a boy ‘cause I swear-”

 

“I did not-,” Victor started mumbling, the sound getting lost as his face submerged into the water lower than may have been hygienic.

 

See Yuuri they did, eventually, when they headed over to eat and were welcomed by the sight of threatening-lady - by the name of Minako Okukawa, Yuri managed to find out - two other adults, a man and a woman introduced as Yuuri’s parents - which did make more sense given their soft looks - and the evasive young man himself, not quite looking either him or Victor in the face much.

 

“And that is my stalker-,” Yuri managed to get in some resemble of introductions himself, as it quite seemed appropriate to do it. 

 

“Hi, I’m Victor Nikiforov. I’m here to compete for Yura’s choreography.”

 

“-you might’ve seen him tagging alongside me and my couch sometimes for other uncertain vague reasons like these, I guess. Everything he says is background buzz and completely irrelevant to our business,” Yuri goes on, unbothered by Victor’s addition. 

 

“Yakov’s also my coach,” Victor fails to take the hint and annoyingly keeps on participating in the conversation. 

 

“Wait until he figures out what you did to confirm whether he still is,” Yuri comments to that.  

 

“What does this mean? Victor Nikiforov is in for a contest with Yuuri, else the deal is over,” threatening-lady bugs in once again. 

 

Yuri sighs, “Victor right here is a sore loser and this is a whole different matter. First things first, I need to know about the nearest rink available,” he notes. 

 

“We have a rink right in our town that Yuuri’s been using so far,” threa- Minako still proves to be the most knowledgeable of anything skating related. “Yuuri can lead you there.” 

 

There is a hardly perceivable nod from Yuuri-boy to that. Hardly any words but the most necessary. Yuri is starting to losing his patience in the matter. Hell, does Yuuri-boy even want him to be there? It would be foolish of Yuuri-boy if that is the case. It would be foolish of Yuri to have come all this way for an ungrateful little brat, most of all. He thought he’d be doing some amazing deed here, but it quite doesn’t feel like it lately.  

 

Still hard to get out much of any words from his supposed student as they trot down the road to the rink, too. The rink in itself is not extraordinary, but it would have to do. Far from Saint Petersburg, anyway. The ice under his feet is nice feeling, all the same. 

 

Victor does seem to be quite adapting easily, however. It turned out the little bastard brought his own pet, too - a doggo, no less. At least it seemed to be a dumb, lame creature who would not disturb his Potya much.

 

“What is that?” Victor asks on the way back to the inn, pointing to a random Japanese building - an absolute tourist.

 

“That’s… a ninja house,” Yuuri-boy answer lowly. Oh, so  _ him _ he is able to converse with. 

 

“Ninja?” Victor screeches - boy, the second hand embarrassment. No. 1 Japanese Tourist even starts taking selfies. He even begs Yuuri boy to help him take pictures with him and his dumb dog. Fucking amazing. If the brat has just wanted some nice vacation, he should’ve said so. What was the fuss all about and why bring all this suffering on Yuri for nothing? And why the hell is the Yuuri boy having a tentative discussion about ninja with Nikiforov instead of talking actual future season plans with his newly assigned coach?

 

“Alright, brats, I let you fool around and feel the ice for today, but tomorrow none of you is slacking. You’re not in proper shape. Yes, Vitya, bet you Yakov would have a heart attack to hear of your 900 kcals pork cutlet meals-”

 

Not that Yuri does not enjoy - perhaps too much - those pork cutlet meals himself. He never especially liked pork, and honestly despised rice, so it was quite a mystery in itself - well, maybe except for a certain someone’s homemade pilafs. Not that it should matter, though.    

 

He gets to the rink in deep thought the next morning, without a proper plan still. He looks between the two potential senior debutants, both so young, both very different, and sort of hanging by him, waiting, and it feels odd. They’re on the ice and he’s by the border, watching intensely - definitely weird.  

 

He takes them off the ice early that day, with some sort of determination, talking about diets and exercise and how that has been all they were going to see of the ice until deemed appropriate.

 

His phone rings mid-rant.  

 

“Why is Yakov calling me just now?”

 

“I may not be answering my phone…?,” Victor replies, sounding strangely meekly.

 

“And his next thought is to call me about it because-” Yuri counters, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Victor draws the word out as they approach the rink’s entrance. “Remember that ninja house we passed and I took a picture of it?”

 

“You didn’t fucking post that on Instagram, now did you?” Yuri inquires, his hand frozen on the door’s handle. 

 

The answer is quite clear when a little glimpse through the door’s window reveals a crowd with cameras and a little push of the door itself starts the questioning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I meant to write this seriously, but it’s too borderline crack bc of coach!Yuri, I’m sorry! Also, if you thought Yuri was the most extra in how he followed Victor to Hasetsu, you may not have heard of Victor-extra-Nikiforov himself, the man, the legend of stalking-

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: forgot to mention the very inspiration for this doodlesonice@tumblr's coach!Yurio AU drawings (https://otabek-deserved-better.tumblr.com/post/161235490107/otabek-deserved-better-doodlesonice-i-drew). They're amazing and hilarious and there's a few more of them on their account btw. :)


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